Shadow of Love
by Iggy Lovechild
Summary: Curt and Arthur have a passionate reunion, but there are consequences to his impulsive outburst after the Stone show. Suspended from work and dodging tabloid hounds as well as Stone's crazed fans, Arthur seeks comfort in his burgeoning romance with Curt. An unexpected phone call from Mandy Slade helps level the playing field and Arthur is tasked with breaking Stone's secret. C/A


_**disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me. They were created by Todd Haynes._

_**warnings:** As this is a romance, there is some sensuality and non-explicit references to sex. Due to the nature of the fandom, I probably don't need to mention it but what the hell: The pairing in question is m/m. If you have any issues with men kissing or the implication that they have an active sex life, you might want to turn back now. _

_**a/n:** This is the sequel "Rock and Roll Sweetheart". Originally, I'd intended a kind of go between filling in the years between Death of Glitter and 1984. It was, quite frankly dull wankery. Anyway, it was unneeded due to _Rock and Roll Sweetheart_'s post-script. So I more or less scrapped it (however it is on my Dreamwidth blog) and went straight into a post-film continuation. Which also got gutted in the finishing process. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm just terribly hypercritical of my writing these days or just learning to step back and call my own bullshit. Catch the American Psycho reference if you can and enjoy. There will be a third story. I have this thing for trilogies. _

**"Shadow of Love"**

**New York, 1984**

Curt Wild leaned against the building across from the bar he'd just left. He smoked a cigarette and processed what had just happened. That gorgeous reporter had been Arthur. He hadn't recognized him at first, and by the time his face registered, Curt had been on his way out the door.

He hoped he hadn't choked on that brooch.

Curt decided to wait for him. He didn't care how long it took. Though he'd tried to conceal it, Curt had detected Arthur's look of longing. Anyway he felt bad that he'd given him the impression that he'd been forgotten.

By the time he dropped his cigarette butt to the ground, Arthur was walking out the bar. Curt waited for him to jog across the street before stepping out of the boutique awning's shadow.

"Arthur!" He called out.

The man turned around and looked startled. His eyes widened further when he saw him.

"Curt," Arthur breathed.

"Hey," Curt grinned wryly. "Long time no see."

"Y-yeah," Arthur smiled back. "Are you waiting for a cab?"

"Nah," Curt drawled. "Been waiting for you. I remember our time together."

Curt moved closer to him, afraid that he would run away instead of into his waiting arms. Life wasn't simple like in movies or love songs. It was complicated and cruel. Curt had always known life was a bitch, he only hoped she was feeling generous, just this once.

"I should hope so," Arthur smiled blandly. "We spoke moments ago."

Curt closed the space between them. He thought about how much he wanted to kiss him, right there in middle of the sidewalk, and hoped Arthur picked up his signals as keenly as before.

"Arthur," He pitched his tone a bit lower. "I remember you from London."

Arthur surprised him by grabbing his hands and pulling him closer. They were not quite touching but Curt could feel his body heat. Arthur's expression was raw with emotion and his intensity turned Curt on immensely.

"I've missed you," Arthur whispered.

"C'mon," Curt said as he guided them into a nearby alley. Arthur grabbed his waist and Curt panted, aroused by his assertion.

Arthur kissed him hard and Curt opened his mouth eagerly. He pressed Curt against the wall of the alley and all but devoured him. Curt held him tightly and thrust fingers through his hair. It was shorter than he remembered. Arthur was tugging at his tee-shirt, pushing it up and exposing Curt's stomach to the cool night air. The heat of Arthur's palm rubbing greedily over his skin left Curt feeling vulnerable and desperate. As hot as Arthur was making him, he knew he didn't really want to make it in this filthy alley. Reluctantly, he pushed at him gently and broke their kiss. Curt kept him close, though. Arthur looked amazing with his flushed cheeks and wanton expression.

"Wow," Curt breathed.

"Yeah, sorry," Arthur gasped. "I've been wanting to do that since I spotted you in the bar."

"Me too," Curt replied.

"Why didn't you acknowledge me then?" Arthur asked softly.

"Honestly, I didn't recognize you at first, but I did think you were gorgeous," Curt admitted.

Arthur laughed softly and shook his head. "Thanks. You look great, too."

They stood together for a long time, arms around each other, and Curt wondered what should happen next. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them again and looked into Arthur's face, Curt knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

**XxXxX**

Arthur was losing his goddamned mind. He was sure of it. Surely he'd blacked out during the Stone concert or perhaps he'd just straight died of boredom. The reflective surface of the subway train's door showed what Arthur could scarcely believe. He and Curt Wild sat side by side on a bench. Arthur glanced over at him, feeling suddenly shy. A mere moment ago, he'd been kissing the man breathless. His previous passion had given way to nervousness. What was he doing? What were _they_ doing?

The train stopped briefly at a station and the last few passengers disembarked. No one got on and they were left alone in the car. The minute the doors shut, Curt's body relaxed. He pressed his leg against Arthur's and slung an arm around his shoulders. His fingers stroked the nape of his neck.

The man looked utterly content and it eased Arthur's anxiety. He was a little embarrassed that he'd never really thought about what they'd do if their paths crossed again. Beyond the obvious, of course.

They didn't talk. Anything that Arthur could say to Curt was too intimate to be spoken over the rattle of steel and iron. Arthur scooted a little closer to Curt. He wanted to press his mouth against the side of Curt's neck and feel his pulse trip against his tongue.

Two stations down and Arthur was tugging gently at Curt's hand. His fingertips were still calloused from playing guitar.

"This is me," Arthur told him. His voice sounded strange and too loud.

Curt leered as he let Arthur lead him out the train. He chuckled, a rough yet sensual sound. "Glad you held on to the accent."

Arthur laughed. "I should say the same for you."

"Why the hell would I lose _my_ accent?" Curt asked. He sounded a little annoyed. For some reason Arthur liked that he could get under his skin.

"You lived in England with Brian for years then spent all that time in Berlin, be thankful you didn't end up with some vague Euro trash inflections," Arthur remarked dryly.

"Good point," Curt replied, his tone mockingly somber.

The streets near his apartment building were surprisingly quiet. He supposed people were still commiserating over that rock and roll suicide note. Arthur frowned as he remembered the stunt he'd pulled afterwards. It cast a gloom over the evening, which had been on such a great upswing.

"So how long have you known?" Arthur asked.

Curt stopped him with a touch to the wrist. Arthur turned to look at him. Curt's expression was wistful and shadowed with melancholy.

"Awhile," Curt replied. "I dunno. Maybe Jack was right."

Arthur stared after the blonde rocker's cryptic confession. He'd clearly misunderstood the direction of the question, which had actually been about the fate of Brian Slade. Yet Arthur wanted Curt to continue more than he wanted to correct him.

"What was Jack right about?" Arthur asked.

"I'm a hopeless fucking romantic, Arthur. You know I love you, right?"

Arthur's stomach dropped. He'd said those words so easily. "Don't joke like that."

"I'm not joking," he shrugged, then grinned crookedly. "You'll know soon enough."

**XxXxX**

Arthur lived in an small apartment. It was barely more than a hallway with a bathroom and kitchenette. His bed was narrow. Curt doubted it had seen much action. Although, he seemed to recall Arthur being quite limber.

"Spartan," Curt remarked dryly.

"Necessary," Arthur retorted as he gestured to his desk. It was dominated by a computer, printer, and telephone.

"Ah," Curt murmured.

"Can I get you a drink?" Arthur asked.

"Just water please," Curt replied.

While Arthur was in the kitchen, Curt found his stereo. Of course he'd have a CD player _and_ tape deck. He'd be willing to bet he had a record player around here, too. The cheap table it was set up on was covered with cassette tapes and CDs. He poked around curiously, and smirked as he found a Misfits tape.

"I thought you didn't like punk rock," Curt remarked without thinking.

Arthur returned with a glass of ice water for Curt and a beer for himself. He frowned at Curt as he handed him his drink.

"How do you know that?" Arthur asked. Curt just grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"Have you been reading my columns?"

"Yeah, sometimes," Curt admitted.

"So...you've known...? For how long?" Arthur's tone was surprisingly exasperated and Curt looked at him with reproach.

"What does it matter, Arthur?"

"Why didn't you try to find me?" Arthur demanded.

Curt sighed wearily as he pretended to be fascinated with the back of a cd case. "Listen, when I let you go, I decided to let fate bring you back to me. Just as she'd brought you into my life."

Arthur didn't say anything for a long time and Curt glanced at him, sure he was angry. He wasn't exactly happy, but definitely didn't look pissed. If anything he looked confounded. Curt really hoped he hadn't fucked up.

"Curt, I never truly imagined..." Arthur trailed off as his voice broke.

Curt shook his head and faced him fully. "Look, it ain't like I pined over you but I didn't forget you either. You were cute, smart, a stellar fuck. Give me one good reason you shouldn't have been memorable to me."

Arthur carefully put down his beer and pulled Curt into arms. He ran his hands up Curt's back and Curt felt the pleasant warmth of desire unfurl like a drug through his body. He tilted his head and looked at Arthur expectantly. He was up for anything, though he couldn't help hoping they were on a fast track to Arthur's little bed.

"What if fate never brought us back together?" Arthur asked.

His intimate tone didn't match the question. It definitely matched the tender way he ran his thumb along Curt's lower lip. Curt swallowed hard, trying to keep a clear head.

Truthfully, Curt had never considered that fate _wouldn't_ return Arthur to him. Though life had been a cruel mistress, fate usually managed to guide him toward the right direction.

"Have a little faith," Curt replied with a small shrug. "Some things are just meant to be."

Arthur laughed and some small tension relaxed in his face. He looked years younger and the very vision of temptation. Curt remembered first seeing him in the shadows of the backstage curtain: A cute teenager smiling nervously and trying not to stare at his emotional reunion with Mandy. Of course Curt didn't really think he could apply the word "cute" to Arthur anymore. He was so self-contained that it leant a bit of brooding to his exterior. Curt found it extremely attractive, having a weakness for the fervency of complicated men.

"You're a mad man," Arthur chuckled.

"I've been told," Curt drawled. "Wanna take this mad man to bed?"

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him and his lips quirked into a lop-sided smile. "You sure?"

"Are you kidding me?" Curt asked with a surprised laugh. He untucked Arthur's shirt and slipped a hand underneath the fabric. Curt watched Arthur's face change and felt his muscles tighten under his touch.

"It's, ah, been awhile for me," Arthur admitted.

"That's cool," Curt replied with a grin. "I'll remind you."

**XxXxX**

Arthur woke to the sound of his phone ringing and was immediately aware of the body pressed tightly to his side. He opened his eyes to the truly bizarre and wonderful reality of having Curt Wild in his bed. His body ached pleasantly. They'd been quite thorough last night.

The answering machine picked up the neglected phone call and Arthur frowned at the sound of Lou's voice. It was stern as he implored Arthur to call him back as soon as possible.

Arthur sighed heavily, not one bit interested in dealing with the aftermath of what he'd done. He hadn't been thinking when he'd raised his voice over the din of reporters and called Stone out. True, he hadn't directly accused him of being Brian Slade, but Shannon Hazelwood's reaction had spoken volumes.

Despite the amazing things that had happened last night with Curt, he was still strapped with responsibilities. He only hoped he hadn't inadvertently sacrificed one life for the other. Arthur looked at Curt's head nestled against his chest. He knew without fail which he would choose given the option.

Anyway, his integrity was at stake. Arthur would not keep Tommy Stone's secret. It wasn't fair that he could lie and hurt people to escape a past paved with bad decisions. Everyone made poor choices at some point in their lives. What made him exempt?

With a reluctant sigh, he carefully untangled himself from Curt's suffocating embrace. He nearly fell out of bed in the process and resolved to buy a bigger one soon.

Curt stirred and mumbled sleepily. "S'matter, baby?"

Arthur kissed his mouth lightly and spoke quietly. "Nothing, just got a call from my boss. Need to call him back."

" 'Kay," Curt replied a bit mindlessly. "Do that. Come back to bed."

Arthur chuckled softly as he shook his head. Truly, his was a charmed life.

He found his trousers and pulled them on without bothering to locate his underwear. Arthur had a vague memory of Curt crumpling them into a ball and tossing them over his shoulder to parts unknown.

He put on a pot of coffee, enough for two, and mentally prepared himself as he listened to the machine heat up the water. There were any number of reasons Lou could be angry. God, what if he'd ended up on the evening news? Arthur felt a tight ball of anxiety form in his stomach. There had been cameras everywhere.

Eager to be done with it, Arthur went back to the main room and picked up the phone. Lou answered on the second ring. He still sounded gruff, but it held a weary edge.

"What the hell happened last night?" Lou demanded. "You were all over the news! I didn't send you to the show to cause a commotion!"

Arthur grimaced, his worst case scenario had become grim reality. "I'm sorry, Lou, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Not after discovering the truth."

"So it's true?" Lou asked. He sounded amazed.

"Yeah," Arthur replied, "Tommy Stone and Brian Slade are the same person. The moniker he's using right now is just a derivative of his given name, Thomas Stoningham."

"Dammit, Arthur," Lou sighed with frustration. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Let me write about it," Arthur insisted, clinging to the hope that Lou would be the one to stand up to Stone.

His heart sank when Lou groaned. "You know I can't condone that. Stone has a lot of clout and quite frankly I'm not real interested in battling a lawsuit."

"You expect me to just forget about it?"

"You can do whatever you want, but I won't be printing anything on the subject. I simply can't take the risk."

"Lou..." Arthur sighed. He sat down in his desk chair and felt belabored.

"Listen, I think you know I'm going to have to take disciplinary action," Lou told him simply.

Arthur tasted bitterness on the back of his tongue. He was so sick of Brian Slade getting his way. Between talking to Cecil and Mandy, Arthur had gotten an earful.

"What's that?" Arthur murmured.

"I'm putting you on two week suspension," Lou explained wearily. "No pay."

"What!" Arthur shouted, temporarily forgetting that he wasn't alone. "You can't do that!"

"I _have_ to, Arthur. Look, just lay low for awhile. If this blows over quickly, I might be able to cut it down to a week."

Arthur felt cold. His stomach hurt with his increasing outrage. He wanted to curse the old man and call him out on his cowardice.

"Is that it?" He asked coolly.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but you know my hands are tied," Lou sighed. He sounded tired yet contrite.

"Yeah, I know," Arthur breathed. A week ago he would have accepted his punishment and moved on. He'd have locked Stone's secret away with his own skeletons.

The past few days had stirred something in Arthur, a certain long forgotten passion. He'd been reluctant to work for a big name newspaper like The Herald because he'd already known that men like Slade could manipulate them. Arthur had taken a chance anyway and was being repaid with a terrible sense of déjà vu.

"Listen, I'll do damage control. Stone's people are likely expecting us to print an exposé. I'm going to pull some strings, get a tape of last night's show, and have Patty write up a quick review. If anyone asks me about your little outburst, I'll just tell them you had been working on a piece about Slade and was overworked. Just a bit of stress, alright?"

"Sure," Arthur grumbled sullenly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lou was a lot of things, but Arthur had never truly expected he'd be so easily intimidated.

"Good man," Lou said. "I'll keep in touch."

"Yeah," Arthur sighed heavily before hanging up the phone. He didn't care if he was being rude.

The heavy silence that followed was broken by Curt's voice. He swore articulately, and Arthur turned to face him. He was sitting up in bed. His rumpled appearance would have been sexy were it not for his stormy expression.

"Sorry," Arthur murmured, feeling a gloom fall over his mood. Last night he'd felt so unfettered. In the harsh light of morning, after that dreadful phone call, Arthur was gripped by insecurity.

"Don't you dare fucking apologize," Curt ground out. His voice was rough and a little bit hoarse.

Arthur flushed a bit. He couldn't exactly help but be faintly aroused by Curt's vehemence. His eyes were glued to the predatory way Curt moved as he stalked across the room to retrieve his jacket. He removed a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket and a silver zippo. Curt should have looked ridiculous as he stood nude in the center of the room and lit up a smoke. Instead he looked completely at ease, and Arthur couldn't suppress a twinge of envy.

"You need to write about it," Curt told Arthur as he looked him dead in the eye.

"Lou's right," Arthur replied with a sad shake of his head. "Stone...Slade...whatever. He could ruin me."

"He won't," Curt said with a humourless laugh. "I'll stand by you."

Arthur was horrified by such a suggestion. "Absolutely not. I'll not watch Stone trash your career."

Curt snorted and grinned rakishly. "C'mon man. You think Brian didn't try to screw me over after I left him? The only reason it didn't turn into a massive lawsuit was due to Jack intervening and paying Jerry off to drop my contract."

Arthur frowned, vaguely recalling a couple sound bites from Slade back in '74. He'd dismissed Curt as a loose canon and scoffed that he'd no doubt returned to the gutter he'd fished him out of years before. Curt had gotten the last laugh when he'd released _Mass Production_ a few months after Slade's staged assassination. The album had been critically acclaimed and solidified his identity as a solo artist.

"I'm no rock star, Curt," Arthur protested. "All I am is a simple journalist. Tommy Stone is a massively influential figure around the world."

"So what?" Curt retorted as he grabbed the forgotten beer bottle from last night and tapped cigarette ashes into it. "Brian burned a lot of bridges in his rise to infamy. He's got more enemies than friends, trust me."

Arthur was deeply touched by his words. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Curt really did care about him.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah," Curt nodded, his face a mask of resolve and determination. "I've been quiet for too long, anyway."

Arthur smiled. What an extraordinary man he was! He got up and went to him. Curt's eyes roved over his bare chest as he extinguished his cigarette. He put the bottle aside and hooked a finger into the waistband of Arthur's pants. Curt reeled him in for a kiss. It was quick but hard and left Arthur feeling incredibly horny.

"How's your shower?" Curt asked slyly.

"Pretty small,"Arthur conceded.

"At least big enough for two, right?"

"If we squeeze."

Curt grinned wickedly and grabbed Arthur's hand. "Perfect."

**XxXxX**

It had been a week since the media circus had erupted. Arthur had been spending most his time dodging phone calls from tabloid reporters, as well as the occasional death threat from resourceful Stone fans. He was also working on the Brian Slade article as he'd intended.

Curt Wild, a pro at handling controversy as well as avoiding paparazzi, had become a nightly visitor. He'd bring over takeout, they'd talk, and listen to music. Inevitably they'd end up in bed. …Or on the floor, the kitchen counter, in the shower, against the wall... They were an adventurous pair.

The only thing he hated about this burgeoning affair with Curt was that he always left in the wee hours of morning. He didn't want to, but was very keen on making sure their association was discreet. Arthur had told him quite a few times that he didn't give a damn if the entire world world knew they were lovers. Curt would laugh, kiss him breathless, and promise it wouldn't be forever. Stone still had the upper hand and until Arthur had some leverage of his own, they'd have to keep it quiet. Much as he'd been unwilling to admit it, Arthur knew Curt was probably right.

It was Friday night when Curt brought over a late dinner and a six pack of Tsingtao. Arthur was always a little thunderstruck when he opened the door to see Curt Wild on the other side. Even in a plain tee-shirt and jeans, he was dead sexy.

As usual, Curt quickly moved into the foyer and set the food and drink on the floor before practically kicking the door closed. His first concern was usually to gather Arthur into an embrace and kiss him soundly.

"Damn, I've missed you," Curt mumbled against his lips.

Arthur chuckled, hardly able to believe they'd only been doing this since last weekend. Curt just made him feel so comfortable and desirable. Maybe things would get weird later, but for now, Arthur enjoyed his little slice of heaven.

Arthur took Curt's spoils to the kitchen, uncapped a couple beers and rummaged through the take out bag. There were cartons of Chinese takeaway: Beef Mongolian for Arthur and vegetable curry for Curt. Arthur took down two plates from a cabinet, loaded them with food, and set them on the small kitchen table.

They ate and talked like old friends. Curt was writing lyrics for a new album. He was fairly taken by the death rock scene that had been rising out of punk's chaos. Curt felt that it was much more befitting of his legacy. He was also considering going to Berlin to check out the scene there. Apparently Jack Fairy was raving about some new industrial revolution, whatever_ that_ meant. Curt was eager to find out.

Arthur skirted the issue of his day aside from talking about the article. He hadn't asked Curt about Slade since their incidental meeting, but sometimes Curt would randomly offer up information. Tonight he didn't, much to Arthur's relief. He wasn't in the mood to think about it. How ironic; when he was a teen, he would have given anything to invade Brian's life. Now that the man was invading his, Arthur couldn't wait to get away.

"Hey," Curt spoke as he pushed around a clump of rice with a set of chopsticks. "You wanna come to Berlin with me?"

Arthur fumbled with his fork. It clattered noisily, causing him to blush fiercely. "What?" He blurted.

"I'm serious," Curt said. "Take some time off work after your suspension is up."

"Don't you wager that'd be viewed as rather unprofessional?" Arthur asked.

"I highly doubt anyone would blame you," Curt replied with a soft snort. "C'mon, you look like a guy who needs a vacation."

Curt _was_ right. He'd been working nearly non-stop since 1976. Arthur had always been curious about Germany and the Berlin scene, in specific. He was also keenly aware that this was an invitation into Curt's world. It excited his inner fanboy and the journalist he'd become. Arthur tried to play it cool as he shrugged.

"Perhaps that would be amenable."

"I love it when you're coy," Curt leered. "This is happening. I'll start making arrangements tomorrow morning. Don't worry about anything other than packing."

"C'mon let me at least pay for my own ticket," Arthur protested.

"No, let me be a gentleman for once. Think of it as a date."

"To Berlin?"

"Sure. Rock star dating."

Arthur chuckled and his appetite began evaporate as he considered a holiday with Curt. He pushed aside the plate and took a long pull off his beer as he looked at the man across from him. Arthur admired his new lover, faintly amused by the familiarity of a face he'd lingered over numerous times. Curt seemed to be doing the same thing. He wondered, for not the first time, what Curt saw in him. Well, whatever it was, he was thankful that he apparently met some kind of aesthetic.

Then the phone rang.

Curt's expression darkened. "What the fuck? It's after ten! Don't those vultures have lives?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's not a news hound. Probably one of Stone's pissed off fans."

"How the fuck do they get your number?" Curt snarled.

"I'm not unlisted," Arthur replied with a shrug.

Curt exhaled sharply as he got up. He was going for the phone. Arthur followed in his wake, alarmed.

"Don't answer it, Curt!" He hissed. "Are you mental?"

"Of course," Curt said as he flashed him a feral grin. "Just lemme play protective boyfriend this one time."

Arthur was too stunned by Curt's words to protest any further. He watched Curt pick up the phone with sick fascination.

"Hello," Curt all but growled.

"Yeah, this is Arthur Stuart's residence. Who the hell are you?" Curt snapped at the other person.

Curt's mean expression became baffled. "Mandy?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, wondering why she was calling him. Though she'd been cooperative enough, he'd never expected to hear from her ever again.

"Yeah, it's Curt." He laughed harshly. "Small world indeed. Seriously, though, why are you calling?"

He was silent for a long time before nodding slowly and sadly. "Yeah, I'll hand it over. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Curt motioned Arthur over and handed him the receiver. He gave him a quick kiss that left him a bit light-headed.

"What was that for?" Arthur whispered.

Curt just shrugged and smiled crookedly. "Like I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend."

There was that word again. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. Arthur was still smiling when he put the receiver against his ear.

"Ms. Slade? This Arthur."

She laughed in her humourless way. "I think we're far past the need for formalities, my dear."

Mandy was putting on her British airs. Out of habit or to conceal her emotions, Arthur would never fully understand.

"Alright," Arthur said softly. "Mandy then. To what do I owe this phone call?"

There was a long pause before she spoke again. Her voice was more raw and American. It somehow reminded Arthur of Curt's rough accent.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Mandy sighed.

"Oh?"

"When we spoke, I'm afraid I wasn't...entirely forth right," Mandy explained in her strange way, voice slipping between American drawl and posh intonation.

"About Slade?"

"I knew that he'd become Stone," Mandy confessed quietly.

Arthur wasn't terribly surprised. He certainly didn't hold it against her.

"I understand, Mandy."

"No, you don't. I'm technically under gag order."

Arthur tasted bile as he thought about her plight. Was she in trouble? Mandy continued before Arthur could ask properly.

"I can talk about Brian as he was, but I can't disclose anything about what he's become."

"What happens if you violate the order?" Arthur queried softly.

"I lose the right to use Slade's name as a performer and alimony," Mandy replied.

Arthur turned and leaned against his desk. Curt stood with his arms crossed and was looking increasingly annoyed. No doubt he was putting the pieces together of the fragmented conversation he was hearing.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but why are you talking to me now?"Arthur inquired, hoping he wasn't being too harsh with her.

He heard the faint click of a lighter and listened to Mandy inhale deeply. Her voice was low and nearly sexless when she began to speak again.

"I'm tired, Arthur. Brian has always gotten exactly what he wanted. Me, fame, Curt, even his own tragic downward spiral." Her voice broke raggedly.

Arthur's heart constricted. She was the true wreckage of Slade's hunger for power and international superstardom. Curt had survived, but she'd been cut and left adrift.

"What can I do?" Arthur asked.

"I want you to write that article, and I'm willing to tell everything I know," Mandy replied flatly.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but I need to get a good lawyer willing to go to bat if Brian's goon squad comes after me. I'd also prefer to meet in a private location. He has people everywhere."

"Of course," Arthur said, trying to hide his growing excitement. "You can come to my flat."

Curt shook his head and motioned for Arthur to give the receiver back to him. His determined face silenced the question on Arthur's lips.

"Hang on. Curt wants to talk to you."

"That reminds me," Mandy laughed as her tone became suddenly coquettish. "How is it that you know _Mister_ Wild?"

Arthur felt his face burning, unsure of just how much he should reveal. "Um, kinda long story. Here's Curt."

He quickly handed over the receiver to him and sat on his bed. Arthur was feeling overwhelmed. When he'd been assigned to this story, he'd expected only to be dogged by his personal ghosts. Never had he imagined that he would be tasked to break this gigantic secret.

He stared in wonder at the man across the room as he talked on the phone. Arthur could still remember long, lonely nights and stifled memories. He'd choked on years of longing, convinced that dooming himself to mediocrity was the true mark of maturity. In truth, he'd just been trying to ignore the fact that he'd given up his heart on a rooftop in 1975.

"Listen," Curt's voice pulled him out of his dazed reverie. "Me and Arthur are going to Berlin in a week or so. Why don't you come with us?"

Curt rolled his eyes at whatever her response had been. He put a hand on his hip and looked every bit the rock star as he became quite insistent.

"C'mon, Mandy, when has money ever stopped you before?" Curt scoffed a little. "Anyway, it'll be good for you to get out of America for a little while."

Curt nodded as he listened to her and then sighed. "Like my German is any better. Christ, I lived there for five years and all I can do is ask someone if they speak English and bartenders for a double scotch on the rocks. How about this: I'll arrange a flight with a couple days' layover in London. You can meet us there and Arthur can do a second interview."

Curt grinned at Mandy's apparent acquiescence. "Great, it'll be good to see you, Mandy."

The smile faltered and was replaced by his familiar wistful sadness. "You're doing the right thing, honey. I promise."

He signed off shortly thereafter and looked grimly satisfied. Arthur felt a creeping sense of awe as their eyes met from across the room.

"I told you," Curt laughed a bit unpleasantly. "See, that's Brian's problem. Power was always a bigger high than anything else for him."

Arthur didn't want to talk anymore. He got off the bed and crossed the tiny room in a few big steps. His fingers tangled in Curt's hair as he pulled him in a fierce embrace and kissed him. Arthur felt more than he heard Curt's moan as he opened his mouth to accept Arthur's deepening passion.

**XxXxX**

Curt Wild strummed his electric guitar angrily. It wasn't plugged into an amp. He wasn't worried about tone, just rhythm. On the floor in front of him was an expensive tape recorder.

He sang loudly, breaking the heavy silence of his huge apartment. His voice was raw and menacing; he sang of bully boys and sinister secrets. It was a new song, written in the past week. He'd been inspired by Arthur's struggles with Stone's fans and the shark invested waters of tabloid journalism.

_They find your number_

_Try to rip your world asunder_

_Full of sinister whispers_

_Such blind worshippers_

_To a demon gone mad_

Curt frowned as he squinted as his hand written lyrics sheet. He considered that last line, wondering if it were too obvious or trite. Curt made a notation with a question mark and sparse words. 'Too far?'

He chewed on the pen cap and idly plucked away at his guitar. The dull sound turned his thoughts inward. He was worried about Arthur. Curt hoped the trip to Berlin helped clear his head. He would need to be clever and stubborn if he intended to break open Brian's world of deception.

Curt turned off the recorder and put aside his guitar. He picked up the notebook and turned to a new page. He scribbled out some errant thoughts in his spidery cursive.

Brian had called him some time in 1979 and offered his friendship along with a rocket ride back to fame. You know, for the price of his soul and self-respect as an artist. He'd told him where to shove it and Brian had warned him to stay out of his way.

By 1981, Tommy Stone was a household name and Curt had connected the dots. Seeing Shannon at a press conference, acting as Stone's manager, had been all the proof Curt had needed. She could be called many ugly things, but at least she was loyal. Everyone else had abandoned Brian or been pushed away. Not Shannon. She'd always loved him so desperately that she'd been willing to follow Brian through hell.

Of course his behavior as Tommy Stone had disgusted Curt. He could have handled the shitty music, but his public image was just pathetic. Where once Brian had challenged the status quo and very concept of rock stardom, now he was just another smiling jackass. Curt bitterly remembered how they used to watch music and variety shows, giddy on expensive champagne, and laugh at those media darlings with their store bought patchwork vests and Colgate smiles.

He'd never really cared beyond artist's outrage until those suits had shown up on his doorstep. They'd offered him money for his silence and threatened blackmail if the money wasn't a good enough bargaining chip. Curt had taken the money, rebuked Arthur's phone call, and put the check through a paper shredder as soon as they'd left.

How far down had Brian fallen down the rabbit hole? Did he really believe it when he said that rock stars were the ambassadors to the world? A seed of anger had been planted and it was starting to bloom hot and fiery in his belly.

How dare Brian treat people this way?

Curt flung the notebook aside and massaged his temple. He had a brief, rueful sense of longing for junk's oblivion. Curt was sick with fear for Arthur and vulnerable from the shadow of love that was falling over him. Heroin would blot all that out with its soothing apathy.

Curt checked his watch. It was eight PM, plenty of time to make something happen. He went to a bookshelf, where there was a Zagat's guide left from Jack's last visit to New York. Curt wanted to find the most exclusive restaurant he could afford, get a reservation, and arrive in leather pants with a certain handsome reporter on his arm. He was sick of hiding away with Arthur in his sad little apartment with that damned ringing phone. Tonight he didn't care who saw them. He was determined to take Arthur out, then bring him back here. The very thought of Arthur writhing and moaning as he treated him to a thorough, luxurious fuck in a proper bed made Curt a little crazy. He focused his wandering mind on the little book as he walked slowly back to the couch. Curt filed his little fantasy away for later usage.

He selected a place called 21, intrigued by its scandalous history as a former speakeasy. Seemed befitting of a rock star and his controversial date. Curt smirked and felt like maybe he could have fun with it again. Perhaps this time it wouldn't end in betrayal and bitter tears.

_...continued for sure, y'all_

_**Post-script**_

**Chicago, 1984**

Tommy Stone traveled under his given name, Thomas Stoningham. He checked into the Ritz-Carlton, where a fine, elegant suite awaited him. To say that he'd been a mess since playing New York and the incident afterwards would be the understatement of the year.

He had, in fact, been avoiding mirrors and other reflective surfaces. The years had been unkind and though he was still handsome, his delicate beauty had been robbed on the heels of his decadent lifestyle. Corrective rhinoplasty for a deviated septum had rendered him unrecognizable. Most days it was a relief, but some times Stone mourned those magical years.

He'd been dreaming of the past again, ever since that night. It left him drenched in sweat and as hopelessly paranoid as in previous day long coke binges. Surely everything was too perfect. It was only a matter of time.

Shannon followed after him, her soft voice dictating his strict daily schedule. He was having lunch with a local senator, in the early evening he'd be guest hosting a radio show, and then he would be performing at a charity ball and fundraiser for starving children in third world countries. Shannon left him no time to think and sheltered his private life heavily. There wasn't much to tell these days. He didn't drink, do drugs, or even smoke anymore. Tommy Stone wasn't a just pop idol, he was a role model, too.

In the massive suite, he found a fruit basket and silver tray with a pitcher of water. He poured a champagne flute full of it and wished for a lemon so he could pretend it was gin. Though Stone was happy to be clean, but he often missed alcohol like a dear lost lover.

"Is there any way the lunch and radio spot could be canceled?" Stone asked quietly.

Shannon made a slight huffing sound. "The radio show certainly, but the lunch with Senator Percy took months to set up. I'm sorry, Tommy, but it's out of the question."

"Right," Stone murmured.

"Are you still worried about that reporter?" Shannon asked.

Stone scoffed softly. Was he? He'd spent so much energy covering his tracks. The fact that some pencil-neck no-name journalist held the key to his downfall was disturbing. After all the gag orders and greased palms, the very thought was agonizing.

Of course he was terrified.

"You really shouldn't be worried," Shannon insisted. "My sources say he's been suspended from his workplace and there are no plans for an exposé to be printed. As far as I'm concerned, the issue is moot."

Stone wished he could be so optimistic. He felt like he was facing the calm before the storm. Would he weather it or would it all just crumble away?

"I'll cancel the radio spot," Shannon sighed softly. "It's too risky anyway."

Stone nodded and she left him alone in the bright, cheerful suite. He walked toward the panoramic view of the city. For a brief moment he fantasized about walking through the glass. He would fly away from here.

As he caressed the glass he thought of the people he'd left behind. Mandy and Curt, Jerry and his glittering, foolish entourage. Stone felt trapped under glass. He almost hoped that journalist broke it so that he could reclaim his freedom. Maybe he'd fall to earth like the alien he'd once claimed to be.

A cloud passed over the sun briefly and Stone saw his face reflected in the glass. He smiled grimly. Even as he had such traitorous thoughts, he knew that he would keep lying and misdirecting. Only time would tell if that man could keep up with him.


End file.
